Snippet #1391704

The night was quiet. At least for now.

The city of Voltas slumbered heavily in the oppressive heat that had scarcely diminished with the sun's setting. Rotting garbage and the stench of open sewers combined to form a heavy malaise which hung over the narrow street, overwhelming the nose and pervading pores and fabric alike. To catch the slight breeze blowing in from the west every house had thrown open the windows of their second floors, out of which filtered the sounds of a few souls yet awake -- somewhere a child cried, while elsewhere a woman laughed softly.

From his place in the heavy shadows of the public fountain on the end of the street, Janos Souan missed nothing. He had crouched motionless for an hour, acquainting his eyes with the dark of the unlit street and familiarizing his ears with the noise of the sleeping city. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead and hung maddeningly from his brow, but Souan forced himself to remain still. Waiting.

He perked up slightly; his ears had detected a new sound in the ambience. Souan sensed more than saw the dark shape of figure moving cautiously along the street towards him, hugging the shadows of the gutter. From his place by the fountain Souan shifted slightly, and the dark shape turned towards the noise. Janos gave a low whistle and in a single movement the figure scuttled across the street and was at Souan's side, emerging out of the obscuring darkness into the cloaked form of a man. A dirty and frightened face peered through the shadow of a hood at Souan. "Third house on the right," the man hissed.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as sure, Inspector. Three of their kind inside."

Souan nodded slowly. "You better be right."

"Long as you keep paying gold, I will be." The man held out a hand. From his belt Souan removed a small purse and placed it in the other man's palm. The man made the purse vanish before turning and disappearing himself into the night.

Souan stared hard down the street, counting the houses on the right side until he found the indicated building. He marked it in his head, then turned and gave another low whistle. What had appeared as no more than a heavy patch of shadows in the alley to his right now dissolved into the figures of a dozen men, who moved quietly up the alleyway towards the fountain.

"What did the snitch say, Inspector?" The heavy features of the constable gleamed with sweat, his face framed by a heavy helmet and coif. In his hands was a poleax, an ugly weapon that was nonetheless brutally efficient at battering apart mail, piercing armor, and slicing through flesh.

"Third house on the right," Janos repeated. "We move in fast, before anyone can sound the alarm. Be ready for a fight, and remember that I want at least one alive for questioning."

"Yes, Inspector." The constable, a rough old bruiser who had made a career out of brawling in the street, sounded nervous. Dealing with an inspector of the Special Constabulary put most people on edge, when an ill-timed or ill-conceived remark could lead to a sudden and everlasting disappearance.

"All right, follow me." Boots scraped against cobblestones as dark shapes filled the alley. Moving quickly, Souan counted the doors that passed to his right. One...two...three. As the squad formed up on either side of the door, Souan nodded to two constables who carried between them a heavy log battering ram.

"BOOM!"

The quiet of the night was shattered as the wooden door splintered and toppled backward off its hinges. Souan was third into the house, his dagger in hand. The air inside was humid and close, and as a lantern was unshuttered he could make out the room's interior. It was sparsely furnished -- a stool, a rough-hewn table, an iron-bound chest -- and empty of any inhabitants.

"Ground floor clear, Inspector." The house was filling up with constables. Souan passed through a doorway into the back room, a small kitchen with an empty pantry and cold hearth. Another door led into a back garden and the alley beyond, but Janos wasn't worried. He'd left another squad of constables to cordon off the streets and capture anyone trying to escape this house.

A narrow flight of stairs led up from the kitchen to the second floor, and taking a shutter lantern from one of the constables Souan peered up into the murky darkness-- and there almost died. Two crossbow bolts hissed down from above, flying past his head and snatching the lantern from his hand. "Upstairs!"

Men were shouting now. Constables pushed past Janos and thundered up the stairs. There were more shouts, the clash of steel, a scream, and then silence. "All clear!" came the shout.

Souan climbed to the second floor quickly, sheathing his dagger. A constable was waiting for him at the top of the stairs, the spearpoint of the man's poleax tipped with blood. "Looks like that information of yours was right, Inspector," he said to Janos. "It's a regular armoury up here."

The room was filled with weapons: piles of spears, racks of swords and crossbows, and bundles of crossbow quarrels. What immediately drew Souan's attention were two men lying on the floor, one clearly dead. The other was moving slowly in a pool of blood, reaching for a knife which lay on the floor beside him. Janos kicked the blade away. "Don't let him touch anything or try to kill himself," he said to one of the constables. "And fetch the chirurgeon to patch him up. I want him alive long enough for questioning."

"Yes Inspector."

Janos looked about. "There were supposed to be three here tonight."

"The third one escaped through the window, Inspector." The constable gestured toward one of the windows, which opened onto the back garden.

Souan moved to the open window, and leaned outside. A plank had been laid from windowsill to the gutterspout of the next building, providing a means of quick escape to the rooftops. Janos cursed, for whomever it was that had escaped would be long gone by now.

"Clean out the room and bring everything back to the citadel," Souan told the constables. "I want this place cleared before dawn."

The men nodded, and began gathering up the cache of weapons. The constabulary chirurgeon appeared and began tending to the wounded man, who resisted feebly. Souan looked about the room and noticed a cloth satchel half-hidden beneath a discarded blanket. He picked up the satchel and flipped back its cover to find the bag filled with folded parchments. He skimmed them, curious as to their contents, but read nothing more than senseless gibberish. "Did you find anything on the rebels?" he asked, "Any papers, perhaps?"

"No, Inspector. Just a few coins."

Janos sighed. The writing on the parchments were clearly in code, but the key must have disappeared with the third fugitive. He put the papers back into the satchel and closed its flap. "Take these with you," he instructed a constable. "Make sure they're on my desk by the morning."

He stood for a moment, pausing to survey the room. Another rebel safe house busted, another stockpile of illicit weapons seized, a traitor's death for one who had stood against the king-- none of it got Janos closer to unravelling the conspiracy which threatened to plunge Valania into open rebellion and so destroy the peace and order he worshipped. With a final disappointed shrug, Souan trudged down the stairs.

* * *

It was nearly dawn when Janos returned home, slipping through the door and sliding the bolt closed behind him. As he removed his coat and slipped off his shoes, a light appeared at the top of the stairs. "Janos?"

"It's me, dear." He climbed to the top of the stairs to where his wife Lena stood in a night-gown, candle in hand and sleep still in her eyes.

"Late night at work?" Lena asked, giving him a kiss.

"A raid," Janos said simply, taking his wife by the arm. "The girls?"

"Asleep of course."

The door creaked as Souan opened it, but the two small occupants of the bed did not stir at the sound. Both Emily and her younger sister Laila had inherited the black curls and heavy-lashed eyes of their mother, and neither awoke as Janos carefully bowed and kissed the girls lightly on their cheeks. "They look so peaceful," he remarked in a low voice as he rejoined his wife in the doorway.

"That's only when they're sleeping," Lena replied with a smile. "You're lucky not here during the day."

Janos' smile was part-amusement, part-regret. "Shall we go to bed?"

Tomorrow was, after all, another day.